Vampire Armageddon
by FuryS Forge1
Summary: When four new kindred were created, they never knew the one who Embraced them. Belonging neither to the Camarilla nor the Sabbat, they must find their own destiny, as the Night of Gehenna approaches.
1. Prologue: Old Evil, New life

PROLOGUE: Old evil, New life

**PROLOGUE:****Old evil, New life**

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"You'll have to die."He said, "I'm really very, very sorry, but there's just no way around it."

"Wha…Why?"It was all the boy was able to ask, for the old man had been his master, his teacher.But he had never taught the boy of betrayal.

"To feel the mortality of men bleed out of you, as an understanding of eternity seeps in."Was the old man's response, cryptic and incomprehensible to the boy.

As the boy's life fled the old man whispered in his ear, "To die and leave behind this world of pain and disappointment, only to be reborn, heir to an eternity lived in devotion to pleasure."

***

"You've always wanted power, haven't you?"The old man had always given him the impression of being able to read minds."I can give you the chance to gain power beyond your wildest dreams.But there is a price."

"I'll pay it."There was no hesitation on the boy's part.The old man just nodded, as if he had known this would be the answer.

Time slowed, and the boy's perceptions seemed to expand.Agony engulfed him.The boy groaned out a question."Why?"

"To die and learn the power that is imbued in life, only to be reborn, with an eternity to learn how to use it."Were the last words the boy heard, and then the dark abyss rushed up to claim his soul.

***

"They don't understand you, you know.Your too close to your bestial nature for them to understand your view point."The boy spun to his feet, wiping the tears from his eyes.He turned, watching the old man who must have observed his torment at the hands of others circle him.

"They can't…"The boy spoke warily, but his answer was interrupted by the old man.

"Understand it?No boy, it's that they don't _want_ to.But I can change that.I can offer you acceptance.Do you want it?"His instincts cried out, telling the boy not to trust this old man, but he found himself nodding wordlessly.

Everything became clearer, sharper.The boy just barely heard the old man whispering as his life poured from him like water through a sieve."To die and have the senses expanded, only to be reborn, better than before."

***

The boy knew that he had no choice as to his actions the minute he saw what was going on.A leader had to be willing to take the same chances that he had his troops take, else they could not trust him.

He leapt at the murderer, hoping to save the dying man who had been stabbed.One of the shadows along the wall detached itself, and flowed in, towards the man with the knife.There was a sickening crack, and the man crumpled, as though his bones had turned to water.

"You wish to lead.I can feel the fires of ambition in you."The old man who stepped from the shadows and spoke stepped forward, ignoring the two dead bodies at his feet.The boy felt a numbing fear freeze him into place.

The boy felt a strange lethargy overcome him, and swaying on his feet stuck a hand out to steady himself on the wall."To die and learn what all your followers will feel if you fail them, only to be reborn, with an eternity to find out how not to." 

***

The old man would kill him.The boy could tell that as soon as he saw him.There was no way he could run, he realized that also.

Knowing this, he resigned himself to his fate, and resolved not to fight it.

"Interesting.Your rational side can overcome all else that makes you up, even the survival instinct.Time will tell how great an asset that can be."

The boy felt the pricks of pain, and waited for death to claim him.Just before the brain-death took him he heard words whispered in his ear."To die, and gain the ultimate insight, only to be reborn, enjoying an eternity to learn the lesser insights."

***

"The seeds are planted, all that is left is to allow them time to grow…It shall be interesting to watch, even if they should fail to mature quick enough.I still think the other is too dangerous though."

"There is yet time enough for their growth… and even a wolf can be tamed, if raised for a young enough age. Thank you, Vlad."A second figure stepped out of the shadows, and looked towards the city.

Vlad Tepés smiled at his master's praise, and walked into his sanctum as the first ray of sunlight pierced the horizon.The second figure watched the rising sun for a moment more, then turned and followed Vlad inside.

**Author's notes**:This is the prologue, in which very little happens, so I'm interested in hearing what people have to say as to where they think it's going, even though I don't give too much info.I've already got part of the first chapter written, so that should be posted fairly soon.I really want to know who people think the guy that Vlad was talking to is.First place if you can figure it out.Consolation prizes to people who guess which clans the boys will belong to.


	2. Tale of the GM: Chapter 1

Tale of the GM: Chapter 1  
  
Kylith, as the other Kindred called him, hated interruptions. There were actually a series of reasons for this. The first was that they were just plain annoying. The second was that his subordinates rarely knew what they should interrupt him about, and what they shouldn't. The third reason was that on the rare occasions when an interruption wasn't annoying, and was important enough that he should be interrupted for it, it meant that things weren't going as he had planned. For the Prince of New York City, supreme ruler of all Camarilla kindred inside the city, and an eleventh generation vampire, this last reason was the most vexing.  
  
And so, when the head of his household security corps walked in his private sanctum, unannounced and unexpected, Kylith muttered a string of choice obscenities (he'd learnt some good ones in the past three thousand years, even if they were a little obsolete and some couldn't be translated properly from the older dialects of Latin). The security director endured the twelve minute long diatribe stoically, before finally speaking.  
  
"Milord, one of the watchmen found a group of bodies inside the front gate. Four of them had been embraced, all very recently. None bore Clan markings, but each had one of these held in their hands." The ghoul produced five wax-sealed envelops from inside his jacket and handed them to Kylith.  
  
Breaking the seal on the first envelope Kylith began to read. The ghoul watched as his lord's eyes grew wide, and slowly began to narrow again. "Bring the Neonates in Claude, and have them put into separate guest rooms. They are not to be wakened, but do not prevent them from waking on their own. Two guards outside each door, but leave the doors unlocked. Tell the guards to come find me when one awakens, but to keep them in the rooms." By now Kylith had scanned the first four letters, and filed them away into a drawer.  
  
Claude turned and relayed the orders to his aide, who was just outside the door. "And the other sir?" He asked, turning back.  
  
Kylith had just finished reading the last letter for the third time. His eyes seemed to be slits. "Put it in the Dawn Suite. Have the door locked and sealed, with the seal keyed to either your presence or mine, alert the room's Guardians, and then post five of your best men as you see fit. Oversee the preparations and report back to me personally when they are completed. Do this quickly, for your own safety, but no restraints." Claude left the room at a sprint, and the door slammed be hind him. Kylith pressed a button on the intercom. "Kindly inform the Tremere Primogen that I require his presence as soon as he is capable of giving it to me. Impress upon how extremely important this is. Then inform the other Primogens that I have called a meeting for tomorrow, three hours after nightfall."  
  
"Of course Mr. Vivotrossi." The disembodied voice said back, but Kylith wasn't paying any attention.  
  
What are you caught up in this time Vlad? What are you planning to use these five for? And more importantly, how can I use them, rather than letting you? Kylith asked himself as he turned back to his contemplations. 


	3. Afanc's Tale: Chapter 1

Afanc's Tale: Chapter 1  
  
There was a time, I want you to know, when I was alive. Oh, that sounds like an obvious statement doesn't it? But you must understand, I do not mean alive as in living and breathing. No I mean alive as in truly alive, spiritually alive to the point where I would not have chosen this damned existence had I been offered the choice. But that was never their way, to offer any choice to those they thought they could use.  
  
As a mortal, my name was Nicholas Metorin. At least, that was the name that my parents had given me, and it was the name I kept until the day they died. Until the day I killed them.  
  
It was not something that I meant to have happen, just one of those unfortunate coincidences that happen. They had been on their way to see me in the hospital, because I had passed out in school, gibbering is some language that no one could understand. No one ever truly understood what happened to them, and that includes me. The official police explanation was that a gas main had cracked, and the gas had seeped upwards, pooling in a pocket above the pipe. Something had happened further down the pipeline as the gas had spilled out of the pockets, and a little bit of gas had come in contact with a spark. The gas ignited, and the ensuing fireball broke through the surface of the street. My parents had the misfortune of being directly over the main had the pocket when this happened.  
  
What I never told anybody was that I had been there. Not in person, but I had seen the whole thing, I had seen the fire ball fly into the ground, cracking the street open and causing the gas pipe to rupture, the gas to ignite and kill them. And I knew, instinctively somehow, that I had caused it.  
  
I ran away from the hospital that night, out into the dark warrens of the city. I joined a gang of kids, all my age and older, and took a new name: Afanc. The gang called themselves the Coven of Psiloch, and we tricked others into thinking us paranormal; using tricks of technology. They became my new family.  
  
It was as a member of them that I first learned to fight, to kill. They taught me the tricks of the trade, and I learnt those lessons well. But while a member of them I taught myself as well. I'd take any book I could find on the occult, and I would memorize it. Of all the lessons though, the one that I learnt the best was the last lesson they taught me.  
  
I told one of them how I killed my parents one night, and he told the others. They drove me from their ranks with their curses. Terrified I fled the others fearing the promised retribution. This was the final lesson they taught me, the final lesson of my mortal life. Never trust anyone. It hurts less to be alone than it does to be betrayed. That night was the night of my death.  
  
He came to me while I was trying to find a place to sleep. A place where I'd be safe from the family that now hunted me. I'd send him before, but only in my dreams. He was the figure who had constantly galvanized my study of the occult. He always gave me the impression of being able to read my mind in the dreams.  
  
"You've always wanted power, haven't you?" He'd asked, "I can give you the chance to gain power beyond your wildest dreams. But there is a price."  
  
My mind was already made up. "I'll pay it."  
  
I never could figure out what happened next. All I remember is the agony. "Why?"  
  
"To die and learn the power that is infused in life, only to be reborn, with an eternity to learn how to use it." The dark abyss rushed up to claim my soul as he spoke in my ear.  
  
* * * 


	4. Tale of the GM: Chapter 2

Tale of the GM: Chapter 2  
  
When the first one of Kylith's guests awoke, he wasn't really sure what he was doing in this opulent room. And this didn't really become any clearer to him while awake. The last memory he had was of...no, it was better not to think of it said his mind. Some things were simply better left alone and not considered.  
  
"Where am I?" He asked himself.  
  
The answers to questions like that very rarely please the asker. Now, before you ask any stupid questions my name is Teaches-The-Young, I died a years ago, I'm your ancestor, and I'm going to teach you everything you'll need to survive as a young werewolf who is currently in the house of a vampire, and will probably find himself being used by them for some time.  
  
"Who said that?" Asked the teenage boy.  
  
I already told you that whelp. Now, sit down and let's get started.  
  
Sanity, consciousnesses, and his mind in general all fled from his body, wailing in despair.  
  
* * *  
  
For lack of anything better to do they approached it shortly, hoping that they would have a better time in there this time around.  
  
Most depressing, and only mildly humorous. The first thing you need to learn is that everything they teach you in those schools of yours is complete bunk. This world is populated by any number of supernatural creatures, and we Garou are only one of these. Garou is what we call ourselves. Most mortals and others call us werewolves, and you are one of us. We'll discuss your multitudinous misconceptions of our kind. The thing that attacked was a leech, or vampire. Other things, like Wraiths, or the walking dead, Changelings, known to you as the Fae, and Mages also exist. Now, as Garou, let me clear up a few misunderstandings. No, I want you to calm down. This may be a shock to you, but I'm not going to let them come in and take you unawares tonight.  
  
This is it he thought, I've finally gone nuts and...  
  
You've always known you were different. The leech you encountered last night struck on it didn't he? You haven't experienced the first change yet, but I'm going to try and prepare you for it. It'll happen sometime when you've been pushed to far, when friends are in danger and you can't possibly save them. In a moment you'll have lost control. That's okay. When you next control yourself, you'll probably be standing in a pile viscera that bears little or no resemblance to what it was. If you're lucky and listen, maybe you'll maintain a bit of self-control.  
  
It was around that time that the door opened. The men who walked in drew knives, and everything went red for a moment.  
  
* * *  
  
His mind reasserted itself in a few moments, and he realized that his clothes had literally burst at the seams, as if trying contain something a great deal larger then him. He was standing, covered in blood in the middle of a quartet of dead men, and...  
  
He collapsed to his knees and vomited. When there was nothing in his stomach left to vomit he continued to dry heave for a few minutes, and all the while Teaches-The-Young, spoke softly in his mind, trying to make him feel better, explaining what had happened.  
  
When he finally stood Teaches-The-Young asked his name. He replied Carlos Fernandez Fortuna, answering truthfully. For some reason it didn't seem so strange to have a voice speaking to him in his head anymore. At its prompting he went into the room across the hall, had a drink of wine, lay down on the bed and promptly fell asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Kylith watched the whole thing on tape that night. Standing next to him was Alexander, the Tremere primogen. "You were right about encouraging that release Alex. I would not have wanted to face such a creature as it was when it was released. What do the spirits say about his training?"  
  
"Teaches-The-Young doesn't believe that he is ready to be introduced to any of the others, and so only it has been allowed near him. But I think we should keep him a secret from the others until we know how best to use him."  
  
"Indeed, and I concur. Come let us go to the meeting."  
  
The other Primogen were a little upset by Kylith's making them wait. But once told that they would be deciding which clan four fledglings would be inducted into, everyone's views changed a little.  
  
Big Max, leader of the Brujah stalked out, muttering about not being willing to allow any castoff childer into his group. Theasa looked grim, stating that none of them could possibly measure up to the standards of the Toreador, but that she would stay, simply out of morbid curiosity as to who got stuck with which clan.  
  
The Malkavian, Cynthia, simply laughed maniacally. The venture Thomas sniffed haughtily The Gangrel had never shown up to begin with, and the Nosferatu smiled hideously.  
  
The first one to be decided had fair hair and green eyes, and the name of Gregory. Theasa instantly rescinded her earlier statement and snatched the boy up as a Toreador. She left with her new prize shortly, already explaining to him about the intricacies of life as a Kindred, and quickly began to find out which type of artwork the young boy liked.  
  
The second was tall, with a bookish look to his face. Thin and pale, he became a Tremere. When the others asked what his name was he replied "Afanc". Even as they tried to intimidate him an undercurrent of steely determination ran through his voice.  
  
The third one went to the Malkavians. With a slightly disheveled appearance, he would not speak to anyone except Cynthia, and they also left shortly thereafter.  
  
When the fourth walked out, there was no doubt as to him being a Ventrue, such was the aura of leadership that he radiated.  
  
Inwardly Kylith wondered at Vlad's predictions' accuracy.  
  
Author's Note: So, I'll keep working at it, but I don't know how long the next few chapters will take. I have so much to do in terms of writing. Oh, and I'd like to know what people think of the first person narrative chapters, as written from the view of the characters. I'm not sure if I should continue them or not. Please review. 


	5. Afanc's Tale: Chapter 2

Afanc's Tale: Chapter 2  
  
If this is the Afterlife than it's just as screwed up a place as the real world.  
  
That was my first thought when I started to come around. My second was that they weren't supposed to give you beer in Heaven.  
  
My third was that they didn't give you beer in Hell either. Unless, that is, it was bad beer.  
  
I brushed the dirt off myself as I rose from the coffin (this also seemed somewhat strange, because if all dead people brought their coffins to the afterlife with them than the afterlife would have been over run by coffins). The bottle of beer was still standing there on the bed stand, and I was so extremely thirsty.  
  
So heaven or hell, afterlife or no afterlife, I popped the top off it and threw back my head, intending to drink it all in one gulp. For a moment I forgot to swallow, but I finished off the beer shortly thereafter. It didn't do anything to slake my thirst. Then I took the time to survey my surroundings.  
  
The floor was made of a wood that I hadn't seen before, beautiful and dark almost to the point of blackness. The ceiling arched upwards grandly, a hand-painted fresco covering it with angels who fought in the clouds. The walls of the room described a circle, and placed at equidistant points along the walls were three hangings. One was an iron buckler and rapier, in good condition but well worn from use. A third of the way around the room was single painting, held in a hand-craved mahogany frame, of a medieval baron standing before his castle. Midway between this and the next hanging, a clay tablet with what looked like cuneiform on it, was the door. Midway between this and the first was my coffin, lying flat on the floor up against the wall.  
  
The center of the room was occupied by a massive desk, computer, and short bookcase. I glanced at the books, but they made little sense to me, having titles like "The History of The Kindred", "The Power of Blood", and "A Beginner's Guide to Dominance". With the computer at I least knew what I was doing. I flicked the power switch and with a reassuring hum it sprang to life. I took the time to glance at the bottles on the wine rack that was in an alcove between the sword and the painting.  
  
I pulled one of the bottles off the rack, a deep red, and wiped the dust off the label. And nearly dropped it in surprise when I read "Noblemen of the French Revolution". I assumed it was a bad joke and glanced at a few other labels. Among the seemingly odd labels of "Early Twentieth Century Political Leaders" and "Members of The Lewis and Clark Expedition" I found bottles with even stranger labels, such as "Garou", "Kindred of the Cappodocian Clan", "Fae", "Mages of the Order of Hermes", and "Members of the Society of Leopold, (811-1241)". Those labels scared me more than most, although not as much as the one labeled "Jesus Christ", but I was so thirsty…  
  
I chose a seemingly innocuous "Kings of Macedonia", and looked around for a glass. There was one on the bookcase, so I returned to the computer, which had finished booting up, popped the cork from the bottle, poured the sanguine liquid into the glass, and tossed it down. I was still feeling parched, so I helped myself to a second glass.  
  
Having nothing better to do I checked my e-mail. A message from my mentor a man who called himself Vlad was the only new thing. Something went off in my mind, saying that there was something I should remember about him, but I just shrugged it aside when nothing came forth. I opened the e-mail.  
  
Afanc,  
  
The answers you have sought are within your grasp now. Learn fast, and learn well. I fear you will have little time, fledgling, given the current pace of events. We will meet again.  
  
-Vlad Tepes  
  
That was the full extent of his e-mail to me. But it was enough to open the floodgate. I remembered his fangs in my neck, the pain the pleasure, wound together until they were inseparable. I remembered dieing, rising free from my body like in the hospital so long ago, and feeling this tug backwards. I remembered the searing pain as something fiery and potent burnt its way down my throat, so akin to the rush I felt with each glass I had from the bottle by my side.  
  
And I realized for the first time that I wasn't breathing.  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Okay, here's the next installment of the tale. I know I've been neglecting this piece for a while now, and I'm sorry. I'll try not to do so again.  
  
As for the questions about Kylith's generation and age…no, it's not a mistake, or a typo, or anything like that. Rest assured that all will be revealed in time.  
  
Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read/review this. I promise that the next two chapters will be substantially longer. 


End file.
